


My War Paint is Sharpie Ink

by harioandlouigi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Weather, Canon Compliant, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harioandlouigi/pseuds/harioandlouigi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is in Los Angeles. Louis is in the hospital. Not even the weather is on their side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My War Paint is Sharpie Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [1D_Hiatus_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/1D_Hiatus_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



It’s 11:45 a.m. and Harry is swearing at the car in front of him.

 

And at the car behind him. And at the L.A. traffic in general.

 

But, above all else, Harry is cursing at himself for not having had the common sense to start heading home earlier.

 

He just cannot believe he’s going to be late to Date Night because he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted peanuts on his green curry.

 

Date night is a tradition that started in 2013, when the closeting had finally taken a toll on Harry and Louis’ thus far rock solid relationship.

 

The whole Haylor debacle had been so damaging that Harry and Louis had grown further and further apart until they were barely communicating at all.

 

It certainly didn’t help that management wouldn’t even allow them to be in the same city, let alone in the same building, so a lot of their disagreements had gone unresolved at the time.

 

Looking back at that little bump on the road, Harry can see how it actually made their relationship stronger.

 

As soon as the B word was brought up - break-up, not Beyoncé - both Harry and Louis had been so terrified and miserable that they’d clung to each other even harder.

 

Adamant to fight for their relationship, they had created a plan to make sure that they kept the romance alive and well - and if it just so happened to make them feel like a “normal” couple, no complaints there.

 

So, that’s how Date Night was created – no matter where they are or who they’re with, they _always_ have dinner together every Friday night.

 

Date Night has barely ever taken place at a restaurant - or in any normal setting, really - as they’re too limited by contractual obligations and, often, location differences to actually meet up.

 

Most of their Friday nights are actually spent eating take-away on FaceTime, which sounds incredibly depressing, but any time spent together is always the highlight of their day.

 

Harry and Louis even try to coordinate their meals so that they’ll be eating the same type of food in order to make it all seem a lot more organic and normal, which is precisely why Harry had to drive over thirty minutes to his favourite Thai restaurant.

 

They don’t even let the time zone differences deter them, simply using rock-paper-scissors to decide which time zone they’ll be respecting.

 

Tonight, they’re having Date Night at eight p.m. London time, which is why there’s a delicious-smelling container filled to the brim with green curry dangerously wobbling on Harry’s passenger seat.

 

He’s already six minutes late to Date Night when he finally parks his Range Rover in the garage, so he rushes out of the car and accidentally bangs his knee on the door.

 

He’s still pathetically clutching his injured knee and cursing up a storm when he logs into FaceTime, somehow mistyping his password three times.

 

It’s one of those days apparently, but Louis’ gorgeous smile is bound to make up for everything that has gone wrong thus far.

 

Harry still manages to log in before Louis somehow, so he makes a mental note to guilt trip his boyfriend into fucking himself on camera with their brand new sparkly vibrator after dinner.

 

And then he remembers that the entire Tomlinson/Deakin clan is staying over at their London home, so fat chance that that’s going to happen. Louis is way too loud and his sisters are way too nosy, a lesson they’ve learned and relearned too many times to risk it anymore.

 

It’s ten minutes past eight London time and Louis still hasn’t shown up for their date.

 

Harry isn’t worried yet, though.

 

Louis is romantic, caring, and an overall amazing boyfriend, but he’s also a very excitable little human, so it’s not unusual for him to show up a few minutes late because he was working on a song or playing FIFA with one of his friends and lost track of time.

 

Five more minutes go by before Harry decides to call Louis, his call going straight to voicemail.

 

 _That’s odd,_ Harry thinks, but he waits another ten minutes before calling Jay, his phone call also going unanswered after what feels like an eternity on hold.

 

Harry knows that Louis values Date Night as much as he does, and there’s no way in hell that either of them would forget about it, so he’s starting to worry now.

 

The smaller man always says that Harry is a worrywart, but he just can’t stop his instincts from going into overdrive right now.

 

Louis has never been this late, and that combined with the weird phone situation has Harry biting his nails.

 

He tries Jay a second time, and then a third, before finally giving up on her.

 

Luckily, the Tomlinsons are by the dozen, so he tries Lottie next.

 

“Harry…” Lottie sighs as soon as she answers the phone, her voice noticeably shaky. His sister-in-law’s behaviour is certainly doing nothing to calm Harry’s fears.

 

“Is everything alright, Lotts? Louis hasn’t shown up to Date Night yet, and I’m starting to get really worried. What’s going on?”

 

Harry struggles to get all three sentences out, an overpowering wave of nausea hitting him suddenly.

 

He tries to tell himself that he’s just overreacting, hoping to regain some sense of control over his wildly running mind.

 

“I, uh-, Louis is, um. Hold on, I’m giving Mum the phone.”

 

Harry feels like strangling Lottie for dragging out the uncertainty, every second of ambiguity making his hands tremble harder and harder.

 

He waits impatiently, hearing an indiscernible whispered conversation going on between Lottie and Jay.

 

Louis’ eldest sister seems to give up on whispering eventually though, speaking loudly enough for Harry to hear, “I can’t tell him, Mum. Please don’t make me do it.”

 

He feels the blood draining from his entire face, sweat starting to run down his temples.

 

Something’s definitely wrong, there’s no doubt about it, and Harry can’t stop his imagination from running wild, all sorts of horrible scenarios crossing his mind.

 

He selfishly wishes that it’s one of Louis’ siblings who’s hurt, or maybe their dog, or literally anyone but Louis. Just, _please_ , not Louis.

 

“Harry, love, where are you? You’re not driving, are you?” Jay asks, her matriarchal voice seeping through and nearly overshadowing the underlying tone of fear and sadness. _Nearly_.

 

“No, of course I’m not driving. I’m at home. It’s Date Night.” Harry answers stupidly, wondering how he’s gone from being predictably excited about having dinner with the love of his life to being terrified out of his bloody mind.

 

“What’s wrong, Jay? Is there something wrong with Louis? Can I please talk to him?”

 

Harry’s voice breaks as his eyes glaze over with unshed tears, and he unsuccessfully tries to mentally brace himself for whatever Jay is going to say.

 

He’s honestly unsure of whether or not he could handle it if Louis was seriously hurt.

 

His boyfriend is the absolute most important person in his life, and he can hardly handle it when Louis has the flu, let alone anything more serious.

 

A huge part of being in love is perpetually trying to keep your partner safe and happy, and Harry and Louis have always been fiercely protective of each other, never letting anyone or anything scare them.

 

“You’re going to have to stay calm, okay love?” Jay’s voice is strangely serene and warm, as if she’s trying to soothe both Harry and herself. It doesn’t work for either of them.

 

“Please just tell me what’s wrong, Jay. Please…”

 

“Louis is in the hospital, love. He was playing with Doris and Ernie in the garden, just kicking an inflatable ball around, and it flew over the wall. He, uh-“

 

She takes a deep breath, the memories that she’s been trying so hard to suppress in order to maintain her sanity finally clotting up her mind once again.

 

“Louis ran out to get it back, and this stupid kid driving his dad’s Range Rover way over the speed limit came out of nowhere. None of us saw him coming, not even Louis, I don’t think. One minute he’s grabbing the ball, and the next he’s flying backwards. He was taken into an operation room as soon as the ambulance reached the hospital, and they’re doing everything they can to save him, love.”

 

Jay hadn’t meant to give her son-in-law such a detailed description of the accident, but the words had flown out of her mouth uncontrollably, as if she was reliving it all once again.

 

She swears she can still hear the piercing, helpless sound she made when she saw her first-born baby hitting the tarmac whenever she closes her eyes.

 

Jay’s sure that she’ll never forget a single second of this nightmare, every image, sound, and feeling permanently engraved on her brain and her heart.

 

Harry, unexpectedly, feels nothing; it’s like his mind, body, and soul have become completely frozen.

 

He doesn’t even breathe for an unhealthily long period of time, let alone move or speak.

 

He had suspected something was wrong when Louis didn’t show up to Date Night on time, nor picked up the phone, of course he had, but actually _knowing_ just how wrong has him completely petrified with fear and pure panic.

 

His previously detached emotions hit him like a freight train as soon as he dares to inhale again, his entire body caving in on itself with no attempt to break his fall whatsoever.

 

Harry’s tailbone hits the white tiles on the kitchen floor with a loud thud, but his mind is too much of a muddled mess of _LouisLouisLouis_ and _HurtHurtHurt_ to even feel it.

 

“Love? Harry? _Harry_?”

 

The sounds coming out from Harry’s mouth can’t even be described as sobs, more like choked breaths, encasing his distress perfectly.

 

The horrible, _horrible_ scenarios his brain had created have gained new proportions thanks to the details Jay provided.

 

His boy lying unconscious in the middle of the road, his gorgeous face cut and bruised. His blood staining the white t-shirt he had been wearing in the photo he’d sent Harry earlier. A car dent in the shape of his lovely, tiny body.

 

Will he ever get the chance to see Louis again? Will he ever get another opportunity to feel his warm skin against his? Will they ever get to share one of those lovely, heart-warming kisses again?

 

Harry’s sanity is threatening to disappear as he’s faced with the possibility that the love of his life might actually not survive this horrible, horrible accident.

 

He might never get the chance to tell Louis how much he loves him again.

 

Never get to wake up to Louis’ small hands running all over his body again.

 

Never get to feel his boyfriend’s lips moving against his own ever again.

 

Never get to greet him with sweet kisses all over his gorgeous face ever again.

 

He might never get the chance to call Louis his husband, and vow to love and protect him for as long as they both shall live.

 

They might never have the little girl with curly hair and blue eyes they’ve been dreaming about since the X-Factor days.

 

Nothing could have ever prepared him for a nightmare like this.

 

His subconscious decides to torture him even further by supplying a picture of his soulmate lying down inside a casket, his tan skin disturbingly white and his piercing blue eyes forever hidden.

 

“Harry? Harry, breathe, love. I have enough on my plate as it is, I can’t have you having a panic attack when you’re completely alone on the other side of the bloody ocean.” Jay’s tone is both soothing and stern, but none of her words seem to calm Harry down, his breaths coming out more and more forceful and ragged.

 

“You have to be strong for Louis, love. My son needs you now, more than ever.”

 

Those two sentences are like an adrenaline shot for Harry.

 

There’s a long-time running joke between their friends that Harry is like a police dog, his ears carefully trained to catch any mention of Louis’ name at any given moment.

 

Even through his wailing, he still hears what Jay says, and she’s absolutely right.

 

Louis has always been there for him, through thick and thin, and Harry is failing him right now by being more fuss than help.

 

He has to be strong for Louis. His boyfriend needs him now, more than ever.

 

Harry takes a few long breaths, bracing himself for what’s to come.

 

It still takes him quite some time to calm down enough to able to form coherent sentences, and a few extra minutes to put on his game face.

 

Louis needs him to be strong right now, and Harry isn’t about to let him down, even if he feels like falling asleep and never waking up again.

 

“Okay. Okay. Please tell me exactly what’s going on, and don’t spare any details, Jay. I need to know what we’re fighting against here.”

 

 _We_. Louis and Harry are, and have always been, a team, and they face any and every problem with joined hands.

 

Harry swears that this time will be no exception, even if he is in another fucking continent while the love of his life is fighting for his life back in London.

 

Jay takes a deep breath, sitting down to explain her son’s condition to the man he loves most in the whole world.

 

“Louis was admitted a little over forty minutes ago with a concussion and a significant amount of internal damage, with an internal haemorrhage. I spoke to his doctor after his examination and he said that his right radius and left fibula are fractured, but broken bones are just not a priority right now. There are bigger issues at hand. They’ve taken him to the operating theatre to stop the bleeding, so we’re waiting to see how the surgery goes. The internal bleeding is his most serious and life-threatening injury, so if they manage to stop it, it will put him somewhat out of the danger zone. They’ve been operating on him for the past twenty to thirty minutes, but given his condition, he’ll probably be in there for a long while.”

 

Jay’s voice has assumed a professional tone, only wobbling slightly when saying words like “bleeding” and “life-threatening”.

 

Harry’s certainly glad that his mother-in-law works in the medical field, as her professional tone makes it sound less scary than the confusing explanation his own mother would provide if she was faced with the same situation.

 

It’s still incredibly frightening, though.

 

Harry could actually _lose_ Louis today, but that’s a thought that he doesn’t allow himself to dwell upon.

 

There’s a big bruise blooming on his left arm, where he’d been pinching his skin as an attempt to keep his emotions in check, and his tailbone might actually be fractured.

 

His face is wet with tears and snot, and he can feel the bile rising.

 

None of that matters right now, though; Louis is, and will always be, his first priority.

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Jay, but I’m _begging_ you to please tell Louis that I love him with all my heart and that I’ll be there with him in no time. It doesn’t even matter if he’s awake or not when you see him again, I just want him to know. Please.” Harry’s desperation is noticeable in his voice, and he just cannot believe that he’s literally eleven hours away from his seriously injured boyfriend.

 

“I will, of course. I promise that I’ll tell him everything you asked me to, love.”

 

Harry can hear the teary inflection in Jay’s voice, making it obvious how much she’s suffering right now. He’s clearly not the only one trying hard to be strong for Louis. Good.

 

“Liam has been taking care of your flight for you, love, so I’m going to pass him the phone. We figured that you’d want to fly to London right after we told you about-, um, about all this, so he started making arrangements as soon as he got here.” Jay’s voice is sweet and caring, but Harry still furrows his brow in confusion, and, quite frankly, anger.

 

“Liam? Why would you call _Liam_ and not call _me_? I’m the love of his life, not bloody Liam!”

 

Harry doesn’t even try to conceal the hurt in his voice, justifiably upset with Jay’s betrayal.

 

He can’t believe that his mother-in-law would call Louis’ band-fucking-mate before calling his bloody partner.

 

She wasn’t even the one who called him, actually! He had to call Lottie himself to find out that his long-term partner was in the hospital fighting for his life.

 

What the fuck?

 

“I know you’re the most important person in Louis’ life, Harry, there’s no need for all that hostility. If he had a choice, he would probably prefer to only have you here rather than the lot of us combined. The only reason why I hadn’t called you yet, was because I just didn’t know how to tell you. I knew you’d be heartbroken, and you’re too far away for me to be able to properly console you, son.”

 

Cue the guilt for snapping at Jay.

 

“Liam knows about the accident because he was there when it happened.”

 

Jay hesitates, trying to decide whether or not she should tell Harry exactly why their friend and band mate was at their home.

 

She decides that everyone’s emotions are running a bit too high for her to withhold information, even if it was meant to be a surprise.

 

“Louis wanted to surprise you with a new song on your fifth anniversary, so he asked Liam to come over and give him a second opinion when he finally finished it. That’s why he knew about the accident before you, Harry.”

 

Harry’s heart melts and breaks at the same time somehow, cursing at God for letting something so terrible happen to such a kind and thoughtful man.

 

It’s not unusual for Louis to surprise him with songs about Harry and their relationship, but it just never gets old, and they are always simultaneously tearjerkers and pantie-droppers.

 

Harry sighs, “I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to talk to you like that. It was very disrespectful, and I apologize. I just feel so _useless_ being so bloody far away from him right now.”

 

Regret is dripping from Harry’s words, and he feels immensely guilty for using such an aggressive tone and stance when talking to his mother-in-law.

 

Jay is truly like a second mother to him, and he absolutely adores her; plus, she must be just as frightened as he is.

 

Louis is more than just her son - he’s her absolute best friend – and Harry can’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like to helplessly watch him get run over by a fucking car.

 

“It’s okay, love. I feel useless too and I’m right here.” Jay says, her voice wavering enough for it to be noticeable, “I’m going to pass Liam the phone so that you can get here as fast as possible, okay? I’ll see you very, very soon, Harry. I love you.”

 

Even in the worst of situations, Jay still manages to successfully calm him down and make him feel loved and taken care of. Must be a genetic trait.

 

Tears spring to Harry’s eyes again when he answers, “I love you too, Jay. Please take good care of my boy until I get there.”

 

“I will, love. I promise.”

 

Harry listens to the commotion of the phone exchange, anxious to find out just long it’s going to take for him to finally be able to be by Louis’ side.

 

“Harry, mate, I’m really, really sorry that all this is happening. How are you holding up?”

 

Liam has always had a very expressive way of talking, his tone an accurate reflection of his feelings.

 

Right now, his tone screams empathy and worry.

 

He’s a good friend; Harry and Louis are lucky to have him.

 

Harry’s not in the mood for chitchat though, so he jumps right into what is his highest priority at the moment – getting to London as fast as possible.

 

“I just want to be in London as soon as possible, Li. Can you get me a flight out of LAX within the next two hours? It shouldn’t take me longer than forty minutes to get to the airport.” Harry says, desperation seeping through his words.

 

It’s never been more important for Harry to be by Louis’ side than it is right now.

 

“Haz, I really don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh, you know that tropical storm brewing in the Atlantic?” Liam’s voice is shaky, as if he’s aware of just how much damage he’s about to inflict on his friend, “Well, uh-, I-, um, t-they-, um.”

 

Harry is usually an incredibly patient guy, but he’s quickly running out of patience for his friend’s incessant stuttering.

 

“Spit out, Liam, fucking hell!”

 

“All the flights that have to go over the Atlantic have been cancelled because of the storm.” Liam explains in a rush, his words practically fusing together. “I’m so, so sorry, mate. I tried really fucking hard to find another way for you to get here, but it’s just not possible. I’m sorry, Harry.”

 

Liam reminds him of a small child begging not to be punished for something that isn’t even his fault, and if Harry wasn’t so blinded by pain, he’d feel bad for him.

 

“Can I take a private jet, then?”

 

Harry already knows the answer to his question, but he refuses to believe that the love of his life is literally fighting for his _life_ back home, and he can’t get his pathetic arse in the same continent as him because of a stupid little storm.

 

“Odds are that the jet would just end up in the bottom of the ocean, and no pilot would be willing to take that risk. Trust me mate, I asked. I even phoned management to see if they could help me find another solution, but we’ve come out empty handed. I’m really, really sorry, H. Please don’t hate me for having to be the one to tell you this.”

 

It’s not the first time that Liam has needed the reassurance that his band mates don’t hate him, and are, in fact, quite fond of him, and it probably won’t be the last either.

 

His teenage years had taken an irreparable toll on Liam’s self-esteem and, every so often, he would convince himself that the rest of the boys put up with him simply because they had to.

 

For the first time since Harry has known the Wolverhampton man, however, he makes no effort to reassure him whatsoever.

 

On the contrary, he hangs up without saying a single word.

 

Harry doesn’t indulge Liam’s need for reassurance because, this time, he really does hate him.

 

He hates Liam more than he has ever hated anything or anyone in his entire life.

 

He despises the fact that he’s stuck in Cali-fucking-fornia while Liam is at that hospital.

 

He scorns at Liam’s pathetic clinginess because the other man knows _NOTHING_ about being hated for who you are or whom you love.

 

Liam is sitting in that waiting room because he’s the fucking poster boy for heterosexuality, whilst Harry has to be shipped to another bloody continent just because he likes it up the arse.

 

Liam gets to spend as much time as he wants with Louis, whilst Harry can’t even sit next to the love of his life in public.

 

And it’s not fucking fair!

 

It’s not fair that Liam is there and Harry is here, when he’s been in love with Louis literally from the moment he met him.

 

So yes, he hates Liam right now, not because of who he actually is or what he does, but because of everything he represents - the limitations in Harry’s own life versus the freedom that the other man has to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants and, most importantly, with whomever he wants.

 

He hates that Louis sometimes spends more time with Liam than with Harry during breaks.

 

He hates that they get to joke around on stage when all Harry gets is a few concealed glances in his direction.

 

He hates that Lilo is celebrated, whilst Larry is treated like the fucking plague.

 

But what he hates most is that, now that Louis needs support more than ever, Liam is there by his side and Harry is not.

 

No matter how hard he fights, there always seems to be some sort of obstacle in-between Louis and him: management, Simon, the fans, the media, and now even a fucking tropical storm.

 

*

 

There have only been a handful of times when Harry Styles has felt genuinely angry - he avoids conflicts as a norm, being the “make love not war” kind of lad.

 

The main reason why he avoids letting unhappy feelings pester him though, is because he is absolutely useless when he’s angry, becoming even more frustrated with his own inability to step up to the plate.

 

This is just another reason why Louis and Harry are perfect for each other, really - one is completely unable to complain, whilst the other can’t stop complaining.

 

Forget angry tears, Harry is the king of angry sobs and ugly crying.

 

Whenever he’s angry, he tends to curl up in bed with his headphones in and cry until he falls asleep, which would benefit nobody right now given his current situation.

 

This time though, Harry’s anger and resentment are fuelling him in a completely different way, driving him to make the spontaneous decision of buying a ticket to Tokyo.

 

If he can’t fucking fly over the Atlantic, he’ll just go the other way around.

 

It briefly crosses his mind that it’ll probably end up taking him longer to get to London this way than it would if he waited for the storm to calm down, but he can’t just sit around helplessly, fearing that any phone call could be the bearer of bad news.

 

So help him God, he is going to do everything in his power to get to Louis as fast as possible.

 

*

 

Harry might be drunk with determination, but he doesn’t totally abandon logic, so he calls Jay on the way to the airport to tell her about his plan.

 

The only news she has regarding Louis’ condition is that he’s still in surgery, but Harry tries to see that as good sign; at least the love of his life still has a beating heart.

 

His mother-in-law kindly promises to send him constant updates, even if he won’t be able to see them for many, many hours, and Harry could not be more grateful for her thoughtfulness and empathy.

 

He tries his best to stay incognito at LAX, which is a feat in itself, hiding his easily recognizable curly hair inside an oversized beanie, and opting for uncharacteristically casual clothes.

 

And if anyone just happens to recognize him along the way, the look of wrath and desolation written all over his face is sure to keep him from being disturbed.

 

*

 

Changing his phone to flight mode is stupidly difficult, and he ends up holding his it in his hand pathetically and staring at the screen without actually doing it. It isn’t until the flight attendant addresses him directly in a stern tone that he finally does it.

 

Harry can’t help but feel terribly guilty once again - being unreachable whilst on a plane is perfectly understandable, but not when the love of your life is undergoing a life-threatening procedure.

 

He spends the first five hours of his flight to Tokyo fretting over the news that might be awaiting him when he turns flight mode off, and the following five hours passed out against the window due to how exhausted he had gotten from fretting.

 

He’s sure that there’s no way in hell that Louis will still be in surgery when he lands, and he’s both anxious and terrified about finding out the outcome.

 

Ten hours is an awfully long time, and when your boyfriend is in critical condition, they feel like a lifetime.

 

*

 

Harry is already holding his phone tightly in his hand a full hour before the expected landing time, his eyes clouding with tears every few minutes.

 

Everything could have changed during his ten-hour flight, for better or for worse, and Harry is absolutely dying to see what news Jay might have sent him while he was unreachable.

 

The airplane hasn’t even touched solid ground yet before Harry is turning flight mode off, his phone beeping over and over again with what looks like a million texts, the vast majority of them from Jay.

 

Harry swallows down the wave of nausea threatening to overtake him and takes a deep breath, before finally scrolling up to his mother-in-law’s very first update.

 

When Harry and Jay had become close enough to casually text each other, he had mocked Louis for ages, saying that he texts just like his mum, always ending with xx and his initial.

 

Now though, looking at the messages his mother-in-law sent him, it warms his heart to see the same style of writing as his boyfriend’s, and he’s suddenly immensely grateful for the hero-worshipping relationship Louis shares with his mother, as reading her texts makes him feel somehow closer to the love of his life.

 

10:25 p.m. (London time)

**Louis has just come out of surgery and the doctor says that the internal bleeding has been completely stopped. They had to remove his spleen because it ruptured due to the fracture of his two lowest ribs. He can live a completely normal life without it though, so don’t worry. Louis is still considered a high-risk patient though, as more complications may arise. He’s being so, so strong for us, love, so I hope that you’re still staying strong for him.**

**Love you**

**xx - J**

 

10:53 p.m.

**One of the nurses just told me that I’ll be able to go see Louis within the next few minutes. They’re not sure when he’s going to be conscious again, though. Even after the anaesthesia wears off, his body won’t be restored enough for him to just wake up, but I’ll still tell him everything you asked me to. I promise that if he’s listening, he’ll know how loved he is.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

 

11:12 p.m.

**I’m sitting right next to Louis’ hospital bed, holding his hand, and telling him that I’m texting you. I know that if he was awake, he would have wanted me to tell you that he loves you, so I’m telling you anyway. Louis loves you very, very much, Harry. So do I, by the way.**

**xx – J**

 

01:03 a.m.

**They say that no news is good news, and that’s what I have for you. Louis has been doing alright so far, with no complications whatsoever, and that’s really all we can hope for at this point. I thought that you’d still appreciate the update anyway.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

 

02:01 a.m.

**I’m still sitting next to Louis. I used this time to tell a few people about Louis’ accident, your mother included. Please call her after you finish reading this text - she really wants to talk to you. I know that I’d be worried about Louis if you were the one lying in this hospital bed.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

 

Harry had actually ignored all of his mom’s calls and messages in his haste to know how Louis was doing, but he makes a mental note to call her as soon as he finishes reading the rest of Jay’s texts.

 

3:33 a.m.

**Everything’s still the same. I sent the kids back to your house for the night, but I’ll sleep here in Louis’ hospital room. The doctor says that the next few hours and, possibly, even days will be a bit of a waiting game. Everything depends on how fast his body heals, and whether or not any complications arise. According to my calculations, you should be more than halfway into your flight. I hope you’re not fretting too much! Take care of yourself, H. Louis would want you to.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

 

7:06 a.m.

**Louis is officially stable, but still unconscious. The nurse that came in this morning was a bit rude. Louis would have cursed her rotten name if he were awake. I know that you’ll be landing soon, so feel free to call me if you want.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

**P.S.: Don’t forget to call your mother ;)**

 

The last message from Jay had only been sent about an hour ago, and it’s by far Harry’s favourite.

 

7:58 a.m.

**LOUIS IS AWAKE! He’s still breathing through the ventilator though, so he can’t speak, but we’ve developed a system - 1 blink for yes and 2 blinks for no. I told him that you were on your way and working on getting here as fast as possible. I also told him that you love him very much, and that he’s always in your heart, thoughts, and prayers. Louis got a bit too emotional and agitated when I talked about you though, so the nurse advised me to keep the conversation light as to not overwhelm him. He’s still a bit tired, poor thing, so he only stays awake for short periods of time.**

**Wishing you a safe landing.**

**Love you**

**xx – J**

 

 

God, Louis is alive and _conscious_ , and Harry has never been more relieved in his entire life, the gigantic stone that had set in his stomach reducing to a much more manageable size.

 

He can’t even begin to imagine what he would have done if he had to spend the rest of his life without Louis, but, thankfully, he’s not about to find out.

 

He swears there and then that he’s going to spend the rest of his days worshipping Louis and treating him like a fucking prince.

Harry might have been planning on calling his mother before, but after reading Jay’s last text, he ends up sending her a quick message instead, squashing down his guilt.

 

He calls Jay, hope blooming inside his chest – maybe, just maybe, he might even get to talk to Louis directly, and that has got to be the single most exciting possibility Harry has ever heard of.

 

Whereas he had been inflated by anger when he left L.A., he now thinks that his head might be in serious danger of blowing up from sheer happiness and relief.

 

Jay picks up on the third ring, but doesn’t actually speak to him for a few seconds, though he does hear her tell Louis ( _ohGodohGodohGod!_ ) that she’ll be right back.

 

“Hi, love.” She says, her chipper voice a striking contrast from her previously displayed gloomy, worried tone.

 

Hearing the serene, giddy tone in his mother-in-law’s voice makes it all seem more real somehow, as if Harry had expected the text messages to be just a hopeful figment of his imagination.

 

The relief, happiness, and physical and emotional exhaustion have Harry in tears before he can even mutter a single word out, violent sobs forcing their way out of his throat and causing the rest of the passengers in the lounge to stare at him.

 

He doesn’t give a shit though; let them look.

 

The love of his life is alive and _awake_ , and Harry has never felt more relieved in his entire life.

 

It takes him to a few minutes to pull himself together, Jay cooing through the phone as she tries to get him to calm down.

 

“I’m s-sorry, Jay. I’ve been good since the last time we talked, I promise. It’s just- I’m so bloody relieved. I’ve calmed down now, don’t worry. Update me, please!” Harry explains, wanting to punch himself in the face for wasting precious time he could have spent talking to his Louis.

 

“I understand, love, I really do. As soon as Louis fell asleep after the first time he regained consciousness, I had to go into the hall because I was scared I would wake him up with how hard I was sobbing.”

 

Jay takes a shaky breath, and Harry can only imagine how emotionally drained she must be feeling, “Anyway, there’s not much to report to be honest. Louis is still drifting in and out of consciousness every so often, but he seems pretty aware of what’s going on. Oh, the doctor said that she’s going to wait at least another 24 hours before getting him off of the ventilator. She wants to be sure that Louis is able to breathe on his own first. Other than that, he’s in stable condition and officially out of the danger zone.”

 

Harry lets his mother-in-law finish her “report”, before finally asking what he’s been waiting to ask all along.

 

“Jay, may I please talk to Louis? I’ll be good, I promise. I know you said we shouldn’t overwhelm him, but I just really, really need to tell him that I love him.” Harry begs, trying to suppress the tears that are threatening to gather in his eyes.

 

Louis’ condition may have improved, but he still needs him to be strong, and Harry will be fucked if he doesn’t put his boyfriend’s needs above his own.

 

“I’ll be honest, Harry, my head is saying that it’s probably not a great idea given how strongly he reacted to what you asked me to say earlier, but my heart says that if my son found out that I didn’t allow you to talk to him, he would kill me.”

 

Jay’s absolutely right - Louis would have a right fit if he knew that his mom had stood between them when he was a the hospital, of all places.

 

Jay sighs, “Keep in mind that Louis can’t answer you, okay? I don’t want my son to get frustrated and try to talk with that tube in his throat, Harry. That would be very, very bad. We don’t want to slow down his recovery, okay?”

 

Harry doesn’t even care about the fact that she’s addressing him in the same tone as when she’s explaining to Doris why she can’t let her eat the kitchen rags; all he cares about is _LouisLouisLouis_.

 

He still moves to a quieter seat even though he knows Louis can’t talk. To be honest, he just doesn’t want to miss a single second of their “conversation”.

 

“Yes, of course. I completely understand. I won’t even talk to him for too long, I promise. Thank you, Jay.”

 

The giddiness in Harry’s stomach is eerily similar to how he used to feel whenever Louis talked to him during their first few weeks on the X-Factor.

 

There’s much more besides giddiness now though, there’s also relief, and respect, and an immeasurable amount of love.

 

Harry knows he must look beyond pathetic, all curled up in one of those huge, pretentious sofas that they seem to have in every single lounge around the world, holding his phone like his life depends on it.

 

For what felt like an eternity, he didn’t know whether or not he would ever get the chance to talk to the love of his life again, though, so he thinks that his behaviour is perfectly excusable.

 

Harry listens to Jay’s footsteps as she walks back into Louis’ room, the beeping in the background serving as a reminder of just how banged up his soulmate is.

 

It’s a huge relief to know that Louis is awake, but Harry is aware that his boyfriend hasn’t been instantly healed.

 

There’s still a probably quite long recovery period ahead, but he’s planning on being there for Louis every step of the way.

 

Jay’s voice is fond and warm as she addresses her son, and Harry forces his stupid body to keep breathing, willing himself to stay strong throughout the entire duration of this phone call.

 

He’ll have plenty of time to breakdown once he’s off the phone, but right now he’s dead set on focusing on Louis, and Louis alone.

 

“Louis, love, do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

There must have been a single blink, because she keeps going, “I’m going to tell you something, but you’re going to have to stay calm, okay? We can’t have you getting overly excited or emotional. Do you promise to behave, love?”

 

Another single blink, Harry assumes.

 

“Harry was the one calling me just now.”

 

Louis must have had somewhat of a strong reaction to what his mother said, as her sweet voice carries a stern tone when she addresses him again.

 

“We had a pact, Louis. You promised you’d stay calm, remember? If you overtire yourself, I’m going to tell Harry not to come see you.”

 

Harry really hopes she’s bluffing, because as soon as he touches British soil he’s going to see his boy, even if he has to physically push her out of his way.

 

The beeping becomes a little slower though, so Louis must be taking her seriously enough to stop moving.

 

“Harry’s at the airport in Tokyo on a layover, and he doesn’t have a lot of time before his flight to London.”

 

She’s definitely lying now; Harry’s flight isn’t for another two hours, unfortunately.

 

“He called to find out how you were doing, and asked if he could talk to you for a bit, so do you think you’re up for it, love?”

 

Harry hears Jay chuckle for a bit, before she says, “Alright, I get it. There’s no need to blink so bloody hard.”

 

Harry’s heart gives a little pang at his boyfriend’s over-eagerness.

 

They’re so fucking lucky to have found each other - it’s insane!

 

“Okay Harry, I’m going to put you on speaker now. Please keep our little chat in mind, love.”

 

Harry waits a few seconds for Jay to turn the speaker on her phone on.

 

And then he gives himself a few extra seconds to keep his emotions in check.

 

“Hi, love…” Harry exhales.

 

His voice sounds a little shaky even to his own ears, so he puts a lot more effort into his next sentence. The last thing he wants is to worry Louis.

 

“I’m at the airport in Tokyo, like your mum said.”

 

Harry knows he’s being redundant, but what the hell do you tell someone you almost lost without making them too emotional or agitated?

 

“I just walked past that store that you spent almost eight hundred quid at when we came here for the first time, remember that? You had, like, three bags full of retro video games and silly toys. I don’t even know where you’re hoarding half of the crap you buy, to be honest.”

 

Jay interrupts his rambling, “Louis is nudging me with his hand and blinking rather forcefully, so yes, he definitely remembers.”

 

That’s such a Louis thing to do, Harry could honest to God start sobbing right now.

 

He _always_ makes sure that Harry knows he’s being heard. Even when Louis has literally no way of telling him that he’s listening, he still manages to come up with a different tactic to make sure that Harry doesn’t feel like he’s being ignored.

 

“I’m glad you remember, Lou. I could never forget a single second I’ve spent you either. You’re the love of my life, did you know that?”

 

Shit, that got way too deep, way too fast. Abort! Abort!

 

So much for keeping the conversation light, Styles!

 

“Louis says yes, Harry. Well, he’s not actually saying this, but I know he would if he could, so I’m going to go out on a whim and tell you that Louis loves you very much.”

 

Harry doesn’t even have time to process Jay’s sentence before she’s suddenly tsking.

 

“Stop blinking so bloody hard, silly, you’re going to pull an eyelid muscle or something.”

 

Harry’s sudden answering chuckle comes out a bit too strained, and he knows that his composure is hanging by a thread now.

 

Mournfully, he decides that it’s probably time to end the phone call before he upsets Louis.

 

His boyfriend has bigger and more important issues to worry about than having to comfort Harry.

 

“My flight is boarding,” LIE “so I have to go, but I’ll see you in about thirteen hours, give or take a few minutes, okay? I love you so, so much, Louis.”

 

Harry hangs up before Jay has time to comment on Louis’ blinking pattern, the last of his energy completely drained out of him.

 

When he finally manages to gather the strength to move, he goes into the store he’d been telling Louis about with the intention of getting his boyfriend a present.

 

He ends up spending twice as much as Louis had spent his first time there, but he can’t say that he regrets a single pound.

*

 

Harry always gets this warm, fuzzy feeling in his tummy when he hears someone speaking the Queen’s English.

 

He enjoys travelling, he really does, but there’s something incredibly comforting about his own country.

 

This homey feeling has been multiplied by the ten-fold today as he steps into his Tokyo-London flight, as British accents mean that he’s that much closer to Louis.

 

The stress of the last couple of hours (days? How long has it actually been since Louis didn’t show up to Date Night? It feels like an eternity!) catches up to Harry, and he ends up sleeping for eleven hours straight before an intense patch of turbulence startles him awake.

 

The final two hours of his flight feel like twenty years, as his mind pesters him incessantly with horrible what ifs.

 

Louis had been stable and conscious when Harry left Tokyo, but what if everything has changed?

 

Jay had warned him over and over again that complications could arise, but it’s hard be at peace with that possibility, especially after he had gotten to speak to Louis.

 

When the wheels of the plane finally touch down on British ground, the feeling that spreads through him isn’t the predictable anxiety or fear. It’s that warm sensation in your tummy when you’re finally home after a long trip.

 

Harry has been on the road for so long that home isn’t a place anymore - it’s a feeling.

 

So, no, home isn’t London, or even Holmes Chapel, and it it’s especially not L.A.

 

Home, in Harry’s case, and as sappy as it may seem, is wherever Louis is.

 

They have lived enough of a nomad life since they first started touring to have learned to find comfort in the little things.

 

After the initial excitement, every hotel room started looking the same, so Harry and Louis created these little habits to make them feel less detached from their “normal” lives, like always carrying and lighting the same cinnamon candles everywhere, or travelling with that citrus-y body wash that they love.

 

No smell will ever be more lovely and homey than the natural sweet scent of Louis’ skin, though.

 

Louis is Harry’s home.

 

Harry turns flight mode off to see that he has only received two messages from Jay during the entire duration of his flight, both short little updates saying that Louis’ condition is still the same, and he exhales a breath of relief.

 

Harry doesn’t need Louis to be constantly improving, he just needs his condition to not get any worse.

 

Had Louis gotten worse, Harry would have been truly heartbroken.

 

*

 

Harry’s walking through the arrivals area at a rapid pace, completely ignoring everything and everyone around him in his haste to get to Louis, when a familiar face in the crowd catches his eye and makes him stop dead in his tracks.

 

Anne is waiting for him, which is a bit creepy considering that he had never told his mum when he was arriving in London.

 

He blames it on mother’s intuition.

 

Either that, or he needs to change the password to his e-mail account.

 

(HarryStylesTomlinson91 was probably a little too easy to guess anyway.)

 

When his Mum’s arms tighten around him, he feels less like the brave persona he had been trying to embody, and more like the little boy who used to climb into her lap when the kids at the playground mocked his dimples, but he still doesn’t shed a single tear.

 

Harry is sure that there will come a time when he’ll get to sit down and fully assimilate everything that he’s been through, and he can guess that it will not be pretty, but, for now, he must stay strong for Louis.

 

His Mum understands his urgency, so they rush to the car without a single word spoken.

 

The ride to the hospital is quiet, but the nervous energy in the car speaks multitudes, and, after nearly thirty hours of travelling, Harry finally arrives at LBH.

 

It feels a bit like an outer body experience, the mechanical way that he gets out of the car and heads for the lifts, and he can hardly believe that he’s finally going to see the love of his life again after nearly losing him.

 

He’s acting like a bit of a zombie right now, not because he’s exhausted, which he actually is, but because he’s grown calloused and numb since the moment when he called Lottie on Date Night.

 

Harry neither runs nor shakes as he walks down the hall to Louis’ room, feeling like the past thirty hours have prepared him enough for whatever he might find behind the door to room 431.

 

He stupidly knocks on the door, unaware of what the protocol is for visiting one’s significant other whilst said SO is basically attached to the bed by a ventilator.

 

Harry should really have found it odd how uncharacteristically vague Jay’s messages had been, but he hadn’t, which is why his knees buckle as soon as a familiar, yet raspier and more strained voice says, “Come in”.

 

He wastes no time before opening the door, eager to finally see his boy after what were, without a doubt, the scariest thirty hours of his life.

 

Louis is lying on the bed, looking exactly like Harry expected - minus the ventilator, thankfully.

 

You’re never truly prepared to see the love of your life physically hurt, but Harry had been trying to manage his expectations during the entire duration of the flight as to not have a meltdown when he finally saw Louis.

 

There’s a cast around his right arm, and an assortment of bruises and cuts on his left one.

 

His left leg is elevated, and also plastered up - the extent of the damage had been too high for Louis to just wear a boot.

 

The sterile white of his hospital gown contrasts with the redness of the stitched skin on Louis’ right leg, but even all banged up and bruised, he’s still the most beautiful man Harry has ever seen.

 

Harry trips over a chair in his haste to get to Louis, making the smaller man croak out a painful-sounding honking laugh.

 

His boyfriend’s eyes look a bit more glassy than usual from up-close, probably due to the medication and to the tears gathering there, but there’s still the same mischievous glint as always, and Harry swears he falls in love with him all over again.

 

The Doncaster man makes a pathetic attempt at lifting his trunk to touch Harry, but his body is too sore, both from the accident and the surgery, and a whimper escapes from his throat when he gets to a particularly painful angle.

 

“Stop moving, you twat.” Harry instinctively says, before immediately snapping his jaw shut with regret.

 

Out of all the things Harry could have said when talking to the love of his life in person for the _FIRST FUCKING TIME_ after the accident, he chooses to both order him around _AND_ insult him, all at once.

 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

 

Guilt is spreading through Harry’s body like a wildfire – _well done Styles, not only did it take you almost two fucking days to show up at the hospital where your partner is fighting for his life but, when you finally arrive, you shower him with insults instead of affection_.

 

What a fucking knob!

 

He’s vaguely wondering if jumping out of the fourth floor would put him out of his misery when he notices the crinkles around Louis’ eyes, caused by the huge grin that has taken over his boyfriend’s face.

 

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here, Hazza. Everybody else has been treating me like a fragile piece of antique bloody porcelain.” Louis grumbles, though it’s hard for him to look grumpy when he’s sporting a grin the size of the Great Wall of China.

 

A ridiculous sound makes its way out of Harry’s mouth, a hilarious mixture of a laugh and a sob, and he loses all self-control then, bursting out in giggles and tears all at once.

 

“God, I love you so fucking much, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

Now, that’s what he should have said immediately after stepping through that bloody door. Idiot!

 

“Come kiss me then, you numpty. I miss you!” Louis whines, making grubby hands with his injured arms. Thank God for opioids.

 

It isn’t easy to find a position that allows them to kiss whilst trying to avoid crushing an already very badly injured Louis to death, but they make it work, like they always do.

 

Both men’s lips are dry and chapped, but they fit together as if kissing is their default action.

 

As sappy as it may sound, Harry is always blown away by how perfect they are for each other, as if they’re bodies were moulded to fit together flawlessly.

 

Harry analyses Louis’ face in search of any signs of injury there, and, when he finds none, he peppers his scrunched up face with light little kisses.

 

That’s exactly how Jay finds them, Louis giggling like a prepubescent girl and Harry making exaggerated kissing sounds as he worships his boyfriend’s face with his lips.

 

***

 

Louis finally gets discharged from the hospital exactly one week after the accident, and he couldn’t be happier to be out of that sterile, impersonal room and back at his and Harry’s primary London home.

 

His Mum offers to stay in London to help Harry “take care of him”, a notion that Louis protests for two hours straight - he’s not a three-year-old infant, fuck you very much.

 

Harry seems to be enjoying playing nurse a bit too much though, so he rejects her offer with a borderline threatening smile that has Louis in stitches, both metaphorically and in practice.

 

Leaving the hospital, unfortunately, doesn’t mean being instantly “fixed”, and Louis still struggles _a lot_ with his current limitations, feeling immensely frustrated with how his body refuses to obey his brain.

 

 _It’s a process_ , everybody tells him, and Louis knows that he should be glad to even be alive after such a terrible accident, but he can’t help but feel like a burden when he can’t perform basic tasks on his own.

 

“Ugh, I’m useless.” Louis complains as Harry literally carries him out of the passenger seat of their Range Rover.

 

“You’re not useless, Lou.” Harry says patiently, even though they’ve had the same conversation a gazillion times already, “Just a little bruised, that’s all.”

 

“You’re literally pushing me in a bloody wheelchair, Harry. Bruised, my arse. I should just change my name to Humpty Dumpty, because all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put this fucking mess together again.” Louis says, pointing at himself self-deprecatingly, without a single trace of insincerity.

 

Louis understands that he’s still in recovery, but he doesn’t just feel injured or hurt, he feels genuinely _weak_. It’s a feeling that he’d never had to live with before, fortunately, and he’s really struggling to manage it without constantly lashing out at everything and everyone.

 

“On the bright side though, I get to put on that sexy nurse outfit we have stored in the naughty drawer and give you sponge baths, baby.” Harry says with a well-practiced dirty smirk on his face. He also attempts to wiggle his eyebrows, but that’s a talent that he has yet to master.

 

“You also get to sit me on the toilet whenever I need to take a shit. How’s that for a positive?”

 

Harry merely snorts at his boyfriend’s comment, having developed a pretty high tolerance to Louis’ crass humour over the years.

 

“Being around you is always going to be a positive in my dictionary, Louis, even if you are taking a shit.” Harry answers in what Louis thinks is a disturbingly sincere voice given the disgusting topic.

 

“Even if it’s a smelly shit?” Louis challenges, raising his eyebrows teasingly.

 

“Even if it’s the smelliest of shits.”

 

Only Harry would indulge his silliness, honestly.

 

God, he’s perfect.

 

“You are so fucking whipped, Harry.” Louis mocks, shaking his head disapprovingly.

 

“Eh, I’d say you’re pretty whipped too, if the many, many complementary tattoos are anything to go by.”

 

Harry’s right. Louis is so insanely gone for his boy, it’s not even funny.

 

Had he been this infatuated with anyone else, he would probably have been terrified, but this is Harry, who Louis can read like an open book.

 

It would take a blind and deaf man to not notice how much Harry adores him.

 

The combination of Harry’s tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve and the level of intimacy they share have made Louis ridiculously attuned to his boyfriend’s feelings, which is how he knows that Harry feels guilty about not having been there during the first day and half that he was in the hospital.

 

Harry hasn’t actually told him that, but it’s still written all over his beautiful face.

 

Thing is, Louis has never blamed Harry for his absence.

 

He knows that if the curly-haired man had a choice, he would always be by Louis’ side.

 

The only reason why his boyfriend was in L.A. in the first place is because the wankers at Modest thought that they needed to be papped in different countries, as if the “Larries” would suddenly give up on their (very correct) beliefs just because Harry was spotted eating Fro-Yo on the other side of the Atlantic.

 

Plus, Louis now knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry’s love for him knows no limits, as the younger man hadn’t even let a tropical storm stop him, literally going almost all around the World just to be with him when Louis most needed his support.

 

Thing is, Louis should have addressed the situation as soon as he had became aware of his boyfriend’s guilt, but acknowledging the time before Harry got to the hospital means being reminded of the whole experience, and he isn’t particularly keen on doing that.

 

He overheard his mum telling Niall yesterday that nobody had seen the car coming, not even Louis.

 

She’s wrong.

 

There were a few seconds of awareness before the excruciating pain, a small period of time during which Louis had honest to God thought he was going to die in front of his entire family.

 

He didn’t see his whole life flashing before his eyes or any of those ridiculous misconceptions that you see in the movies; there was just an overwhelming sense of terror and sadness dominating his mind.

 

There hadn’t been enough time for him to run out of the way of the oncoming car, but it was just enough for the fear to set in.

 

Cheating death hasn’t made him feel more alive or something; it has only made him fear it even more.

 

It’s ridiculously scary to know that you can be playing with your little sister one moment, and then the next you can be dead.

 

He has so much to live for that he’s now terrified that it’s all going to suddenly disappear one day.

 

It’s not like he had thought that he was going to live forever before the accident, it’s just that he had imagined that he would die in his eighties or nineties, with Harry’s hand in his, and the photos of their children and grandchildren filling up the walls.

 

Waking up in the hospital had been just as scary as watching that car speeding towards him, especially because he couldn’t speak, which meant that he was literally physically unable to ask if he was going to die.

 

Nobody even bothered explaining what was going on, so Louis was stuck not knowing whether or not he would ever see Harry again.

 

It may seem ridiculous to just assume that he was likely to die any second, but he’d been in so much pain and in such a state of pure exhaustion when he first woke up that it literally felt like life was being drained out of his broken body.

 

His exhaustion had kept growing and growing, as he’d been perpetually trying to fend off sleep because he was worried that he wouldn’t wake up again.

 

It truly is the most terrifying feeling in the world to not know whether every breath you take could be your last.

 

Every time he had looked into his mother’s eyes, he had wished he was looking into Harry’s instead, which is probably a terrible thing to think, but he just wanted to look into those gorgeous green eyes one last time before he died.

 

When you wake up in a hospital room without the ability to breathe for yourself, death is really the only possibility that crosses your mind.

 

He’d been worried for his mum and sisters, of course he had, but Harry had been the main reason why he’d wanted to stay alive.

 

Out of all the different factors in his life, his relationship with Harry is the most incomplete in the sense that there are so many great things ahead of them – coming out, getting married, having kids, and just growing old together in general.

 

Their love is a bit like an unfinished work of art, and Louis had been terrified that he would never get the chance to complete it.

 

Even the song that he’d been working on for their anniversary was still partly unfinished, for fuck’s sake!

 

So yeah, Louis isn’t planning on bringing up those days any time soon, even if it is to reassure his boy.

 

*

 

Louis’ release from the hospital falls on a pretty symbolic day – Friday - which can only mean one thing in the Styles-Tomlinson household: Date Night.

 

Louis may be cut, bruised, and broken, but Date Night is Date Night, and such a honourable tradition demands to be respected regardless of his injuries.

 

As a matter of fact, after everything that they’ve been through lately, it makes even more sense to celebrate their lovely relationship.

 

Harry makes chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash, because of course he does.

 

The green-eyed man had already been pretty sappy on a normal day, but his sappiness has been on steroids since the accident.

 

Louis almost resents Harry for doing a much better job at preparing the infamous meal, but he simply cannot take the other man seriously enough to be upset after seeing him preparing it completely naked with “Wrecking Ball” playing in the background.

 

(He even did the classic helicopter move every time the chorus started, his gorgeous pink, long cock moving perfectly in tune to the rhythm of the song and making Louis crack up.)

 

Date Night ends up being absolutely perfect - well, the previous one certainly hadn’t set the bar very high - but Louis still mourns the absence of the usual Date Night sex.

 

He’s pretty sure his stiches would pop if Harry fucked him though, and abdominal blood is definitely not an aphrodisiac for them, so he doesn’t really complain (much).

 

They play scrabble after dinner instead, which everybody knows is almost as good as sex (not!), and go to bed early because his medication is like a bloody horse tranquilizer, but Louis honestly thinks it might be one his favourite Date Nights ever, because they’re both feeling soft and cuddly, and there are about a million and one I love you’s exchanged.

 

When Louis goes to sleep that night, the uncomfortable casts on his leg and arm stop him from being able to cuddle his boyfriend properly, but he’s still pretty damn happy that he’s finally able to share a bed with the love of his life again.

 

*

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he’s definitely not feeling _#blessed_ anymore.

 

Harry is god knows where, doing god knows what, and the sheets don’t even smell like him because they didn’t sleep in their actual bedroom - they had to sleep in the tiny bedroom downstairs because Louis is a useless piece of shit who can’t go up the stairs like a normal human being.

 

The clock on the wall is too noisy, and there’s a bloody bird chirping outside, and it’s cold as fuck.

 

(You’d think two fucking millionaires would be able to afford to turn on the heating every once in awhile, but guess not!)

 

His casted limbs itch like motherfuckers, and Louis desperately needs to wee - which he can only do sitting down now, by the way - but he can’t get out bed and to the bloody toilet on his own. He needs to be escorted by his own fucking boyfriend like a bloody child, and he hates everything and everyone right now.

 

“HARRY!” Louis yells, his annoyance noticeable enough for Harry to literally drop whatever he was holding, metal clanking on the kitchen counter.

 

The Cheshire man takes a calming breath as soon as he sees that Louis is physically okay, and didn’t, like, fall out of bed or something.

 

“Sorry, love, I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast in bed, so I was making the batter for those chocolate chip pancakes you like. I didn’t expect you to wake up so early.” Harry’s voice is hesitant, as if to not set Louis off.

 

Too bloody late for that!

 

“Breakfast in bed? I think you’re overselling it. It’s more like a pity party for your useless bloody boyfriend who can’t even get out of bed on his own. Keep your fucking pancakes; I just want to take a piss before my bladder blows up! Think you can help me with that instead, Nigella?”

 

Despite how horrible Louis is being to his boyfriend, Harry still helps him up gently, getting him on the toilet without throwing his pathetic body at the wall, which is probably what he deserves right now for being such a twat.

 

Louis is still seething when Harry helps him back onto the bed, so he doesn’t even bother apologizing to the Cheshire man.

 

Harry hesitates before leaving the room, probably wondering whether or not Louis will get mad at him for leaving him alone once again.

 

He comes back five minutes later though, this time precariously balancing a tray.

 

“Um, I know you said you didn’t want the pancakes, but I made them anyway. You can have them if you want, or I can just, uh, you know, take them back to the kitchen if you don’t.”

 

The obvious insecurity in Harry’s voice is what does it for Louis.

 

He’s sobbing before his boyfriend even finishes his sentence, trying to apologize, but not collecting enough air in his lungs between his incessant crying to be able to form a single word, let alone a full sentence.

 

Harry speed-walks to the bed, immediately holding Louis tightly against his chest, but still mindful of his injuries.

 

He’s so fucking caring and attentive…

 

Louis doesn’t deserve him.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay, love. Don’t cry, baby.” Harry coos, over and over again, pressing Louis’ head against his chest and wrapping his arm around him even more tightly as he tries to put an end to his boyfriend’s incessant sobbing.

 

This right here is Louis’ absolute favourite place in the whole world – cuddled up in Harry’s arms, seeing, hearing, and breathing nothing else besides _HarryHarryHarry_.

 

“No, it’s definitely not okay. This is not _okay_. You’re so good to me, Haz. I don’t deserve you.” Louis manages to squeak out, before a round of hiccup-y sobs overpowers him.

 

Harry retrieves his arms from around his boyfriend, separating their bodies just enough to be able to guide Louis’ head upward so that they’re making eye contact.

 

He’s still gently holding the Doncaster man’s chin when he states with tremendous certainty, “I love you, Louis. Good days and bad days. You’ve been through a lot lately. It’s perfectly okay to feel a bit overwhelmed, love.”

 

Harry is pretty fucking perfect, isn’t he? He somehow always knows exactly what Louis needs to hear. It’s wonderful. _He’s_ wonderful.

 

“It’s just really stupid, isn’t it? I shouldn’t even be bitching about how much my fucking arm and leg itch when I could literally be dead right now. God, I was so scared, Haz. I really, really don’t want to die. I love my life; I love you, and me Mum, and my siblings, and the rest of the lads, and I love that we get to sing for thousands of people every night, and then come home and cuddle on the sofa. I was bricking myself at the thought of losing all of that, but it’s really not fair for me to take it out on you. I know you were just as scared as I was, and that you’ve come out of this accident with scars too. I’m so sorry for belittling that. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for you to find out that I was in the hospital, being in L.A. and everything. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

 

Louis is still silently crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

Harry is crying too, though he’s trying to be much more inconspicuous about it.

 

“I won’t lie - it sucked, it really fucking sucked. It still sucks because you’re in pain, and you can’t do anything you want, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Being told that you might not make it out alive was the single most painful situation I have ever been through in my entire life, but you don’t have to feel guilty about making me worry. None of this is your fault, Louis. I love you, for better or for worse, and it’s my job to hold your hand through the good and the bad.”

 

“I will never not feel guilty for taking nearly 30 hours to get to the hospital, but there’s something good to be taken out of this whole experience, though. Being stuck in airplanes, and dreading what news might be awaiting me in land has made me grow a fucking backbone, and it was about bloody time. I am _never_ going to go anywhere I don’t want to again, management be damned. I’ve gained perspective, and I know now that _nothing_ is more important than you and our relationship. I don’t care about the stupid contracts or the fans that we might lose, I just want to be able to kiss the love of my life whenever I feel like it, because God knows life is fleeting.”

 

Harry takes a break after his impromptu declaration, apparently only now realizing the impact that the changes in his own life will have in Louis’ as well.

 

“I’m not going to pressure you into anything, of course. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I’d really, really like for us to come out, so if that’s something you want as well, we should just go for it, because I don’t want to regret anything ever again and I never want to be forced to be away from you again.”

 

Louis can see the pain in Harry’s eyes, the same pain that’s always been there whenever they’ve talked about this.

 

He can also make out something new now as well, a glint of pure determination and strength that’s never been there before.

 

And, just like that, on a stormy Saturday morning, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles of One Direction make the decision to come out, regardless of any and all potential costs.

 

The occasion might demand a celebration, but Louis and Harry are too exhausted for a high level of excitement, both physically and emotionally, so they just veg out in front of the telly eating the chocolate chip pancakes that the younger man had prepared before.

 

They start off with a classic _Friends_ marathon, laughing at the same jokes that they’ve heard several times before, but Louis eventually demands to watch the Real Madrid – Paris St. Germain game.

 

Harry seems to get bored sometime after Cristiano Ronaldo scores his second goal of the evening, and settles for writing and drawing all over Louis’ casts.

 

Unlike Harry, he doesn’t have the attention span of a squirrel, so he keeps his eyes trained on the plasma screen.

 

The Holmes Chapel man seems to be a bit on edge when Louis starts channel surfing after Paris St. Germain’s monumental loss, but the smaller man is a bit too sleepy to question it.

 

He ends up falling asleep shortly after the end of the game, waking up when there’s a loud explosion on the screen - apparently sleepy Louis had thought the _007: Skyfall_ movie would be a great pick. What a knob!

 

His arm is itching again, so he reaches for the coat hanger Harry kindly provided after putting up with a lot of complaints from Louis.

 

He’s about to carefully insert the coat hanger inside the cast when he sees it, causing him to drop the hanger, his mouth hanging wide open in pure shock.

 

Written in huge letters, and extending for the entire length of his cast is a simple, but, nonetheless, mind boggling “Marry me, Louis!”.

 

Louis looks at his boyfriend so fast, he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.

 

Harry is sitting with his back straight against the bed frame, his eyes carefully trained on the screen – clearly a poorly conceived attempt at looking casual.

 

His hands are visibly shaking though, and Louis could swear he can almost hear his boyfriend’s wild-beating heart.

 

“Harry, what’s this?”

 

Louis’ voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but the love of his life might actually have just proposed to him, so it’s pretty fucking excusable.

 

“What’s what?”

 

Harry clearly knows what Louis is talking about, given how wide his eyes are and how uncharacteristically high his voice sounds, but he’s apparently decided to play dumb, the little shit.

 

“You know what, you twat. This!” He answers, pointing at the huge letters on his forearm, “Are you serious about this or are you just fucking around? Because let me tell you, if it’s a joke, it’s not fucking funny!”

 

Harry seems to sense the anxiety radiating from Louis then, as he finally acknowledges those three words, replying softly, “Of course I’m serious, Louis. You’re the love of my life. I want to be able to call you my husband and, someday, the father of my children. I want to spend every holiday with your head on my shoulder, and say shit like “My husband never does the laundry”, but still know that there’s no one else I’d rather be with. I want to bake cookies for Santa with our kids in the afternoon, and then have gross old people sex with you in the evening. I want all of that, and I want it with you.”

 

Louis can hardly see Harry’s face through the amount of tears building up in his eyes.

 

He can’t believe that Harry is fucking proposing right now!

 

“Are you just doing this because you thought I was going to die? Because I don’t think I could bear it if you ended up regretting your proposal in a few months.”

 

There’s an overwhelming amount of hope and happiness blooming in Louis’ chest, but he’s trying to squash it down, just in case it turns into disappointment.

 

What if Harry has only been driven into this spur of the moment decision by the fear of losing him?

 

Louis has known that he wanted to marry Harry since they were only sixteen and eighteen, but the last thing he wants is for his boyfriend to regret their engagement or to feel trapped.

 

“What? No! Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

 

Harry rushes out of the bedroom, leaving a stupefied Louis still lying on the bed, wondering where the fuck his boyfriend went and why it is so important that he had to leave in the middle of literally the most important conversation of their entire relationship.

 

When the younger man comes back with a black ring box in his hand, Louis gasps so loudly it could probably be heard in all other divisions of the house, which is quite a feat given how large it is.

 

Harry opens the box slowly, still standing by the door as if he needs an escape plan in case everything goes wrong.

 

Just the gesture and thoughtfulness of buying an engagement ring is enough to melt Louis’ heart, but the ring itself doesn’t even allow him to see past the cloudiness in his eyes.

 

_They had only been together for about nine months when Louis invited Harry as his date to one of his cousin’s wedding._

_The ceremony itself had been beyond boring, but they had met the loveliest, cutest couple at the wedding reception, and the two men had inspired them to this very day._

_Arthur and James had been together since they were fifteen, and they were everything Louis and Harry could ever aspire to be._

_The Doncaster lad had gotten so wrapped up in the recounting of their love story that his eyes had gotten embarrassingly tear-filled when he saw James’ engagement ring._

_It was a simple silver band, nothing over the top or extravagant, but it had Arthur’s fingerprint engraved into it, which struck Louis as such a sweet, sweet idea._

_It was like just buying a ring wasn’t enough of a symbol of love; Arthur had to make it so that James would always be carrying a part of him._

_Louis remembers thinking that if someone did that for him, he would probably never stop crying._

 

The ring Harry bought him is just like James’, only the fingerprint belongs to his own soulmate.

 

Louis is shocked beyond words that the Cheshire man still remembered his reaction and Arthur and James’ story after all these years.

 

He doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s ever done to deserve such a caring, attentive partner, and Louis is so happy and overwhelmed that he can hardly hear Harry’s explanation.

 

“I’ve had it for six months, hidden in the laundry room upstairs, but I was waiting for our fifth anniversary to propose. I’m done waiting though. I want to be married to you, like, _yesterday_.”

 

The lack of response from Louis seems to get to Harry though, as his voice is quiet and shaky when he begs, “Say something. Please.”

 

Had Louis been able to stand up, he would have jumped out of bed and into Harry’s arms.

 

As it is, he has to settle for quite literally screaming “YES” about twenty times and hoping that his boyfriend (fiancé, actually!) will get his cue and kiss him.

 

Harry’s in tune with his wishes, as per usual, so he moves to the bed and hovers above him, putting his weight on his arms as to not hurt Louis, before finally dragging his bottom lip slowly and teasingly over his fiancé’s own.

 

When Harry finally stops teasing him and presses their lips together enthusiastically, Louis swears he sees heaven.

 

No matter how long they’ve been together, kissing Harry will always be one of his absolute favourite activities.

 

There’s something about the innocence and intimacy of their mouths moving perfectly together that Louis adores.

 

He once read that couples who are together for longer than one to two years tend to stop enjoying just kissing, and kisses simply become either a formality or a gateway to sex.

 

Harry and Louis have certainly defeated those odds, and they honestly enjoy kissing just for the sake of it, even if it doesn’t lead to anything.

 

Louis can feel himself growing harder now though, and it’s been so long since he’s had any release that he can only hope that Harry will be willing to go against the doctor’s orders and at least give him a handjob.

 

He can tell that his partner is a bit restless too, even if he’s being careful not to put any weight on Louis as to not hurt him even more than he already is.

 

Harry gets on his hands and knees above him to drag his lips over his fiancé’s neck, and Louis feels fireworks in his tummy as soon as he realizes that the curly-haired man is moving with purpose and not just teasingly.

 

He feels his cock twitch as he watches Harry put his hair up in a bun, a Pavlov reaction that can very inconvenient, especially when it happens in public.

 

Thing is, Harry always ties his hair in a bun whenever he’s getting ready to give him a blowjob, so his body instinctively reacts to such a trivial action with instant arousal.

 

Harry works him over slowly, dragging his pleasure out until he feels like he’s positively burning with it.

 

Louis can still remember the clumsy boy he once was, a complete virgin, but not lacking enthusiasm or a strong will to learn - not that Louis was much more experienced himself, to be honest.

 

He has since perfected his art, but Louis has loved every single version of him.

 

 

Cuddled up against Harry, still trying to get his breathing and slight trembling under control, Louis knows that this right here is the main reason why he’s alive.

 

Harry is his everything, and Louis would fight against anything or anyone to be with him.

 

***

 

Throughout their many, many years of marriage, Harry and Louis will always look back at the accident as simultaneously the best and worst time of their lives.

 

It scarred them, both physically and emotionally, and made them face that great fear of losing one another, but it also gave them the courage to fight for their relationship.

 

Nothing else matters when you’re fighting against death - not money, nor contracts, nor fame - nothing but their immense love for each other.

 

Not even a full year after that dreadful Date Night, Harry posted a picture on Instagram that broke all sorts of records.

 

It was a simple picture really, just their two hands intertwined, but it was the rings on their fourth fingers and the caption – “Just married! Always in my heart, Louis Styles-Tomlinson…” – that had the World talking for years to come.

 


End file.
